Speak Now
by GiulietteRose
Summary: Jesse's engaged! How'll the bride-to-be react when she finds out that Rachel is cast alongside him in a scandalous musical? Will Rachel be able to speak now or will she forever hold her peace?


_Why, Hello! I'm very excited about this one because of the Finchel break-up. Jesse got her into NYADA, she's in NY, and this is totally realistic. How amazing? There is a point in this that talks about her reasons for breaking up with him, and I didn't know how to fill that in, I made her say "Let's leave it at that." I thought I'd have to construct a break-up. Looks like I don't! _

_Nate Steadman, Jesse's best friend does not belong to me. He belongs to the wonderful and super talented __**northstar61**, who just lent him to me from her wonderful St. Berry story, 'Someone to Love You.' You should all go read it. Now. It's the best._

_Love you all! _

_Giuliette_

* * *

Jesse did a double take.

"Rachel?" She turned around. "Rachel Berry?"

"Jesse?"

"I figured this would happen sooner, rather than later." He said, his infamous smile still playing on his lips, even after four years of not seeing him.

"What do you mean?"

"I knew that one day I would see you at an audition."

"Well, it's where we belong."

There was an awkward silence between the two as they watched a blonde woman emerge into the waiting room in tears.

Jesse saw Rachel noticeably tense, and he placed a warm hand on hers, where she relaxed to his touch.

"Rachel Berry?" A nasally, irritated man called out.

"Here I go."

"You'll nail it."

She entered a room with a piano, and a desk with three men sitting behind it, one of which was the man who had called her in before. All three of the men were wearing t-shirts, and none of them looked the least bit professional. One of them, the youngest, sported a scruffy look, the middle aged one had a full beard while the oldest—only about in his late 40's-mid 50's was scratching the silver goatee that rested on his chin.

There was another young man sitting at the piano, and another standing in fourth position by the wall mirrors.

Rachel sang all of the scales that they played for her, she danced a little for the choreographer, and she read lines.

"Now, go and stand near the piano again." Said the youngest, and fairly attractive, director. "And sing us something."

She said something to the piano player that the directors couldn't catch.

"Don't tell me not to—" she began, the familiar song filling her body with warmth.

"No, no, no." Said the middle director. "That's all wrong for the character."

"Excuse me?" Her mind snapping instantly back to her NYADA audition nearly four years prior. It was so stupid auditioning for a lead only a few months before graduating. Why was she setting herself up to fail?

"You see these other girls? Leaving in tears? That's because they have no idea what they're getting into. They think that they'll sing something common and cliché and it will be a safe choice and they'll make it to the next round of auditions. No. That's not how it works, maybe in their high school, but not here. This character is about falling in love with a guy who she _believes_ doesn't love her back. She finally gets him at the very end, but she's defeated, she's tired, she's almost given up hope."

"Well," started Rachel. "I know just the song."

She once again whispered into the player's ear and looked up at the director's table with tears in her eyes.

"_Oh my man I love him so_

_He'll never know_

_All my life is just despair_

_But I don't care_

_When he takes me in his arms_

_The world is bright, all right._

_What's the difference if I say_

_I'll go away_

_When I know I'll come back_

_On my knees someday_

_Oh whatever my man is_

_I am his forever more_

_Oh my man I love him so_

_He'll never know_

_All my life is just despair_

_But I don't care_

_When he takes me in his arms_

_The world is bright, all right._

_What's the difference if I say_

_I'll go away_

_When I know I'll come back_

_On my knees someday_

_Oh whatever my man is_

_I am his forever more!" _

"Now, Rachel, sing us a song of triumph. One that you think that the character would sing at the end."

She nodded, and then smiled. It was the perfect song.

"_He's a fool and don't I know it_

_But a fool can have his charms_

_I'm in love and don't I show it_

_Like a babe in arms_

_Love's the same old sad sensation_

_Lately I've not slept a wink_

_Since this half-pint imitation_

_Put me on the blink_

_I'm wild again, beguiled again_

_A simpering, whimpering child again_

_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered – am I_

_Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep_

_Until I could sleep where I shouldn't sleep_

_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered – am I_

_When he talks, he is seeking_

_Words to get off his chest_

_Horizontally speaking, he's at his very best_

_Vexed again, perplexed again_

_Thank God, I can be oversexed again_

_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered – am I_

_Lost my heart, but what of it_

_He is cold I agree_

_He can laugh, but I love it_

_Although the laugh's on me_

_Am I sweet again? _

_Petite again? _

_And on my proverbial feet again_

_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered – am I_

_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered – am I!_"

The men looked at each other before they said anything.

"We'll get back to you soon, Rachel Berry."

She emerged, looked a sight better than the other woman had. Jesse smiled as they called him in.

Rachel stepped over the people stretching when she heard her name being called.

She turned around and faced Jesse once more.

"Rachel—I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go and get coffee some time."

"I'd love that. Here," she took his iPhone and punched in her number while he put his into her Blackberry. "Call me. Now go and wow the directors!" She called to him as he entered the room that she had just vacated.

_What the fuck, man?_ He asked himself. _You're engaged._

* * *

A week later, they were sitting in a Starbucks, having both gotten callbacks for the musical.

"So," said Rachel, taking a sip of her soy latte. "How's your life?"

He wished he could lie to her, but that wouldn't be fair.

"I'm engaged. Andrea Cohen, the redhead from Vocal Adrenaline. We're getting married in June."

Rachel took in this new information. June. That was 4 months away.

"I don't know…" he started again. "I'm not sure I know what love is anymore."

"What do you mean? You're getting married, you must have some idea of what it is."

"I thought I did when I proposed to her. Now all we do is fight…then have make-up sex and then fight again."

"Then why stay with her if you're so unhappy?"

"I…I can't _leave_ her. She'd most likely cut off a piece of my anatomy that I like very much." He joked. "But also…my parents like her."

In all the time that Rachel had been with Jesse, she'd never met his parents. His brother, yes; his sister, yes; his aunt and uncle, yes; his cousin, yes. All were very sweet people the genuinely liked her. She'd heard from Miranda, Jesse's aunt, that Lucille St. James wasn't a nice person, nor was her husband, Richard. Danielle, Jesse's cousin, was shocked that somebody would want to spawn with her.

It was a good sign to Jesse that his parents liked the girl that he was dating. They would provide help financially, while they weren't making snide comments about him dating a Jewish girl who was literally surrounded by the gay community, from her fathers to her best friends. Being serious Catholics, they weren't into the idea of same-sex marriage and were very much against Rachel's surroundings.

"And what about you?" He began after her long pause. "I don't see a wedding band weighing down your finger.

"_Ha_ _ha_." She scorned.

"I'm serious. Did you not go through with the wedding?"

"Nope. I think that after a while we got so into routine that we assumed that we _needed_ to take the next step. We—excuse me—I started to have doubts."

"And you're not even together now? I don't see an engagement ring either."

"No. He was the one to actually break it off with me. I was crying, but not because I was sad. It was because I wasn't as sad as I should have been…and that's what made me sad. I haven't spoken to him in 4 years. Let's leave it at that."

Letting the subject go, as she'd requested, Jesse's phone buzzed. He looked at it, groaned and put it back in his jean pocket.

"Andrea?" Rachel asked, tentatively.

"Don't you catch on quickly?"

"You're incredible." She replied sarcastically. "What'd she want?"

"We were fighting about something and she just wanted to say that she was right."

"And what was she right about?"

"Nothing. I was right. She told me that she doesn't want me to be on Broadway until she's made a bigger name for herself than I have. She wants it to be Andrea St. James and her husband Jesse." He said, emphasizing her name and dropping off the one syllable of his own. "She told me that she doesn't want me going to the callback today."

"Jesse! You can't let her win. I remember her, she was the one who didn't like me because I was more talented and you were more _smitten_ with me." She laughed. "Does she know that I got the same callback for a role in which _we_ would have to simulate sexual intercourse?"

"I left that little detail out. Well, maybe two little details out."

"She doesn't know that you'll be nude onstage?"

"Not yet…"

"Jesse," Rachel admonished. "She's not going to be happy when she finds out, especially if _we_ get the parts. '_We'_ meaning me too."

He playfully looked into her eyes. Today was going to be awesome. They had a joint callback, meaning that they would be performing together, wowing the directors with their amazing and natural chemistry.

They'd read through the part at least fifty times in the past two hours that they'd been sitting in this Starbucks. It would be amazing.

They would be performing the sex scene for the directors in the next half an hour. They gathered their belongings and headed over to the studio five minutes away. When they got there, they met other couples practicing the lines for the same scene.

Jesse became pale and began to run his fingers through his short curly locks—his very distinctive nervous qualities.

"We'll be _fine_." Said Rachel. "_Fine._"

He nodded at her and smiled. She sat on the floor, and placed her dance shoes on her feet before she bent over and began stretching. They were there for half an hour before they were called into the studio.

Once again, they were in front of the three men, all of different age groups.

"It's nice to have the two of you back." Said the youngest, his deep voice was velvety. He brought his hand up to his shoulder, where he scratched the skin on top of a blue tattoo that Rachel couldn't quite make out.

"Shall we start?" Asked Jesse, and all three men nodded at him.

They performed the actual act in a dance like motion, their bodies curling into each other's with graceful touches and intimate choreography. Their words were melting in the ears of the directors.

The men looked like they were on the edge of their seats, waiting to see what they were going to do or say next, despite the fact that they had written the play itself.

John, Jesse's character, was supposed to be full of passion and lust, while Rachel's character, Julia, was supposed to be all about the romantic aspect. John was in love with Julia, but he was engaged to a horrible woman of his parent's choosing. His only was to express his undying love of Julia, was to show her through making love to her.

Their portrayal of unbridle love brought a new edge to the drama that was to take place in the 1930's.

Jesse spoke with such passion and clear truth in his voice, that one could have a serious debate as to whether he was speaking to Julia or to Rachel.

He pressed his forefinger and middle finger to the inner point on her thigh. In the production, there would be a sheet covering them, so nobody would be able to tell that he wasn't _actually_ pleasuring her, and was a comfort to the directors to know that the lovers weren't actually making love in front of them. He rested himself on his arms pretending to penetrate her 20 or so times before he leaned in, 'spent' and kissed her on the lips.

The directors actually stood up, applauding them for their most believable performance, telling them that it was a breath of fresh air from the shit that they'd seen all day.

"We just want to see if you're vocally compatible."

"Oh, we are." Said Jesse. "May I?" He asked and motioned toward the piano before sitting down and playing the first few chords of "Hello," before singing with the perfect voice that Rachel had literally ached to hear once more.

* * *

After five or so callbacks, Jesse and Rachel had landed the parts. Through the three months that Rachel and Jesse had spent together practicing and performing, they had grown impossibly close, subconsciously pushing Jesse further away from his betrothed. They went out drinking constantly, telling Andrea that he was out, 'with the boys.' He wasn't quite sure that she believed him, but decided quickly that he didn't care. He accompanied her to her graduation, seeing her fathers for the first time in 5 years. He had gone with her to purchase her first apartment, and had even traveled to _IKEA, Target, _and_ Bed, Bath, and Beyond_ to furnish it. Andrea and Jesse fought frequently, and their make-up sex was far more sporadic.

He felt as if it was time to come clean to Andrea about the part and what the role entailed.

"Andrea?" He called into a seemingly empty house. The wall of windows looked out into the bright lights of Times Square, still bustling with people despite the late hour and rain threatening sky. "Andrea?"

She walked out of the bedroom wearing nothing more than a pair of booty shorts, and a sports bra. She looked as if she'd just woken up, and was not pleased to be awake.

"What the fuck do you want? I have to be at work early tomorrow."

"I have to tell you something."

"I can't wait." She said, plopping down on the couch, leaning her head on her hand.

"So, as you know, I've been cast in Love Struck." She nodded and let him continue. "Well, it turns out that I've been cast with somebody you know."

"Who?" She said, rage creeping through her voice.

"Rachel Berry."

"No fucking way." She almost yelled. "You're dropping out of that production. Now. I will not have to perform on that stage with her."

"I'm not dropping out! And there's more." She looked at him, impossibly angrier. "We have a love scene where we will both appear almost nude, save for the fact that she'll be wearing underwear."

"So the entire world will see your dick?"

"1, you know I don't like that language. 2, yes, I will be. 3, it's not the entire world, just the people who pay money to see it."

"You're dropping out."

"No. I. Am. Not."

"Yes." She was close to straining her already rough vocal chords. She would surely wake up the entire building if she spoke any louder. Her pointed face was pursed tightly, and her green eyes were narrowed. It was no wonder his mother liked her, she was a carbon copy.

"You may think that you have some ridiculous power over me, but you're surely mistaken. I am going to be as professional as I can about this, and you're either going to have to live with it or not. That's your decision."

He grabbed his coat and left, leaving her pouting in the middle of the lit living room.

He ventured out into the rainy may night, practically running down the street, getting soaked with the fast falling rain. It was close to midnight, but he didn't care. He didn't care that he had an early rehearsal the next day. He needed to get out of the house, away from her.

Before he knew it, he was at her door, knocking—well, banging really. When Rachel opened it he looked her up and down. She was stunning. Her long brown hair was wet, reaching the small of her back. She was wearing a very thin pink, silk robe that barely reached the middle of her thighs and white socks.

He was breathing heavily, rainwater dripping off his short curls—a similar look to the one he sported upon getting into Shelby Corcoran's car all those years ago.

With one look in her entrancing, brown eyes, he'd made his decision. He leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Complacent that she would respond well, he traced her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth letting him mark his territory. She shut the door and pressed him up against it, wetting the front of her robe against his drenched denim jacket and his black t-shirt. She pulled the stiff fabric off his shoulders and threw it onto the carpet-clad floor. She jumped up, and curled her legs around his waist, deepening the kiss impossibly.

His eyes were closed, but he made his way to her bedroom, where he threw her on the white bed. His shaking hands were fumbling with the tie on her robe. Once he had managed to rip it open, he threw it across the room, landing it on the cushioned chair in the corner. He looked at her perfect body with its pale skin that had a warm glow to it, her flat belly…her small waist and curved hips…that little patch of brown hair that curled and covered her core…those breasts that lay in dainty mounds and fit perfectly in the palm of his opened hand.

Andrea was too pale and she looked untouchable; like a cold marble statue. Her hair was much shorter than Rachel's, and when curly, didn't reach past her shoulders. Her womanhood was bare. She looked like a Barbie with her giant bust that looked awkward on her thin but tall frame. All in all, she didn't compare to Rachel in any possible respect.

He kissed the valley between her breasts, and she made to pull his sweaty and rain-soaked t-shirt of his body. He beat her to it, revealing his toned chest and prominent six-pack.

Their hot chests were practically glued together with fast-drying sweat. His arms were locked under hers and his thumbs were pressed on her shoulders. She kissed the middle of his chest, feeling the quickly beating pulse.

He turned over and kicked his pants and underwear off, turning his attention immediately back to the most perfect person in the world.

He placed his middle and forefingers inside her, and brushed his thumb across the bundle of nerves, eliciting an excited gasp. She grew impossibly wet to his touch as he placed a kiss on her sensitive point. He could feel her shivering with passion and desire as he thrust into her.

He kissed her neck, marveled by the beating of her quick heart rate. He kissed her deeply, and she tasted herself on him.

They moved as one, gaining that close connection that they'd never have been able to make. They weren't being gentle, but they weren't there for a quickie. They wanted to be with each other more than anything else.

When they climaxed with a call of each other's names, Jesse pulled out of her, and pulled her on top of him, so that she rested her petite body on his, his heart beating steadily against her ear.

"I guess you told Andrea about the part, didn't you?"

"Yeah. She reacted the way that I assumed she would, yelling at me to quit the musical."

"You aren't, right? I don't think that I'd be nearly as comfortable doing it with out you."

"Of course not!" Jesse laughed, placing a kiss to her temple. "I could never do that."

"Jesse," she whispered, as he moved to kiss her lips again. "Jesse, you're getting married in a few days, and we just made love."

He looked into her eyes, still a deep, lust-filled brown. He'd never used those words to describe sex with Andrea. Maybe that's what prompted him to leave. He got up and almost ran out of the apartment, not saying a word to Rachel as he put his clothing on.

She looked hurt and in so much pain. She pulled the sheet higher on her chest and let a tear fall as he left the room.

Jesse ran into the pouring rain filled streets. His soaked jean jacket made him colder and he hugged himself tighter.

He never loved having sex with Andrea. It seemed more recreational and more like a duty, rather than being more meaningful. He didn't care for the leathery and lacy lingerie that Andrea seemed to think turned him on. To him, the most beautiful thing in the world was the female body, and he did not like when it was pulled in to an unnatural shape. He loved the way Rachel didn't try; she was just sexy.

He thrust his key in the slot, tiptoed into his bedroom, got a clean pair on underwear and made himself a bed on the couch. He contemplated everything that happened in the last hour and a half, and wanted to throw up.

He loved Rachel so much that it made him sick.

* * *

"Steadman!" Jesse called as he hugged his best friend and his best man. Tonight was to be his bachelor party, and he couldn't wait to spend it with Nate and other friends from college.

They were seated at a bar; both of them had a beer in their hands, and were ready to get inebriated as the night wore on.

"So, how are things with Andrea? You sure about this?"

Jesse took a deep breath.

"No. I don't think that I am. It's not that I think I'm not ready to be married, but I'm not sure that I made the right decision when I asked her to marry me. I've made some serious mistakes in my life—the most important ones regarding love. Is this going to be one of them? Am I going to regret this?"

"Jesse," Nate rarely used Jesse's first name, and when he did, he meant business. "To be completely honest, I think the only reason that you're saying this is because you love somebody else."

"So what if I do?"

"Break it off with Andrea!"

"Steadman, the wedding's tomorrow! I can't its too late. I'll try my hardest to make this work, but I couldn't do that to her. It'd be unfair."

"How long have you loved this other person?"

"High school."

"No fucking way." Said Nate, leaning further into his seat and taking a swig of his beer. Jesse looked at him with bewilderment etched on his face. "You're still in love with Rachel Berry. C'mon, man! How long has it been since you've seen her? Four years? You can't honestly think that she'll magically come back to you. I thought you said that she was marrying that boyfriend of hers from Lima."

"They broke up. And no, I see her everyday." It was Nate's turn to look confused. "We were cast in a show together. And then…last night…Andrea and I got into another fight…"

"Let me guess. You went over to Rachel's house, the two of you made passionate love, you got scared and ran away, and haven't spoken to her since."

"No wonder you're my best friend!" He said with a tone of sarcasm laced through. The bar was filling with a few of Jesse's friends from over the years. Some were his close friends from college, theatre camp, cast members, high school friends and more. The already stuffy bar was beginning to get unbearable.

Jesse told Nate that he needed to get some fresh air. He got up, accidentally leaving his phone at his seat. Making sure that Jesse was out of view, Nate scrolled through his contacts and found the number he needed.

* * *

"Hello?" Rachel said, picking up the phone.

"Rachel Berry? This is Nate Steadman, Jesse's friend."

"Oh…are you here for the wedding?"

"Yes, I am. And you're going to help me stop Jesse from making the biggest mistake of his life."

* * *

The wedding was to be at the Plaza at 6:00 PM sharp. Jesse looked out the window as the guests arrived wearing gowns and black ties. Jesse straightened his own tie as he looked at himself in the mirror. Nate stood behind him smiling.

"Okay St. James, are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Jesse nodded, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd be sick all over the floor. He compulsively smoothed his tie once more over his broad chest and buttoned his jacket. Nate handed him a blue carnation to put as his boutonniere.

"Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue." Muttered Jesse.

"Blue is supposed to be a calming color. I thought it could help."

"C'mon, Steadman. Let's do this."

* * *

Rachel stood in front of a mirror compulsively brushing her bangs to the side. She'd pinned up her hair and had a white carnation pinned into her bun.

She pulled on her tan wedges, gaining an extra four and a half inches when she stood up. Now she was almost Andrea's height. She brushed down the floor length skirt of her dress. She knew she looked beautiful. The warm navy chiffon flowed off her body like waves, and the sweetheart neckline accentuated the little bust that she had. Her eyes were lined with a black liner, and her thick eyelashes were coated in mascara.

She put on the gold star necklace that Jesse had given her for her birthday in high school and grabbed her purse.

Hailing a taxi, she was on her way to the Plaza. She didn't dare open her mouth. If she did, she would get sick all over the taxi.

Nate met her at the door. Though he'd never actually seen her, he could tell from the intricate descriptions that Jesse had given him, that this was the one and only Rachel Berry.

"You must be Nate." She said, as he called out her name.

"Yes. Now are you ready for this?"

"Are you kidding? Of _course_ I am! I can't let him ruin his life by marrying that bitch."

"I can tell we'll be great friends." He laughed.

They walked into the hall and Nate handed her a guitar, telling her that he borrowed it from the band that was _supposed_ to play later.

"I've got to go inside. But I wish you luck." He gave her a hug and walked into the room.

Rachel heard an organ begin to play and opened the door a crack—enough to see a figure in a huge white dress float down the isle.

When she reached the altar, Jesse didn't smile as she assumed that he would. Rachel doubted that Andrea even noticed, but _she_ did.

Rachel's heart began to race as she heard the priest begin to speak.

"Dearly beloved," he began. "We are gathered together here together to join together this man, Jesse St. James, and this woman, Andrea Cohen in Matrimony; if any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or forever hold his peace."

This was Rachel's moment.

She began to strum the guitar, startling the guests, as they all turned around to face the door, which nobody had noticed opening.

"_I am not the kind of girl_

_Who should be rudely barging in_

_On a white veil occasion_

_But you are not the kind of boy_

_Who should be marrying the wrong girl."_

Had Rachel been looking anywhere but at Jesse's face, she would have seen the utter look of horror that was etched onto Andrea's face, or the look of utter triumph that was on Nate's. Jesse looked at her, shocked. He didn't know what to think.

"_I sneak in and see your friends_

_And her snotty little family_

_All dressed in pastel_

_And she is yelling at a bridesmaid_

_Somewhere back inside a room_

_Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry._

_This is_

_Surely not what you thought it would be_

_I lose myself in a daydream_

_Where I stand and say:_

_Don't say yes, run away now_

_I'll meet you when you're out_

_Of the church at the back door_

_Don't wait or say a single vow_

_You need to hear me out_

_And they said, 'speak now'"_

She was getting smiles from both of Jesse's siblings, along with looks of fury that she was receiving from Jesse's other family, and Andrea's family.

"_Fond gestures are exchanged_

_And the organ starts to play_

_A song that sounds like a death march_

_And I am hiding in the curtains_

_It seems that I was uninvited_

_By your lovely bride-to-be_

_She floats down the aisle_

_Like a pageant queen._

_But I know you wish it was me_

_You wish it was me._

_Don't say yes, run away now_

_I'll meet you when you're out_

_Of the church at the back door_

_Don't wait or say a single vow_

_You need to hear me out_

_And they said "speak now"_

_Don't say yes, run away now_

_I'll meet you when you're out_

_Of the church at the back door_

_Don't wait or say a single vow_

_Your time is running out_

_And they said, "speak now"_

_Oh Oh Oh!" _

Rachel looked straight at Jesse, her eyes not leaving his. Moisture leaked from them, and he did his best to wipe it away before anybody saw him.

"_I hear the preacher say_

'_Speak now or forever hold your peace'_

_There's the silence, there's my last chance_

_I stand up with shaking hands_

_All eyes on me_

_Horrified looks from_

_Everyone in the room_

_But I'm only looking at you._

_I am not the kind of girl_

_Who should be rudely barging in_

_On a white veil occasion_

_But you are not the kind of boy_

_Who should be marrying the wrong girl!_

_So don't say yes, run away now_

_I'll meet you when you're out_

_Of the church at the back door_

_Don't wait or say a single vow_

_You need to hear me out_

_And they said, 'speak now!'"_

Rachel placed the guitar on the ground, leaning it against one of the benches.

"Jesse…I've been hurt. Until I met you—my life was trying to prove to the people that had hurt me that I was worth something, that I was _good_ for something. When I met you that day in the music store, I knew that we had shared something special. It was never counterfeit, was it? You wouldn't have told me that you loved me if it wasn't true. You didn't want to hurt me. But you're not as strong as you say you are, are you? You were really hurting and took it out on me. Jesse…I love you. I've never stopped. What you did for me—everything you've ever done for me or said to me—has made me love you even more. I can't let you do this."

Jesse walked to the middle of the isle where Rachel was standing.

"Finish the song." He whispered into her ear.

"_And you say_

_Let's run away now_

_I'll meet you when I'm out_

_Of my tux at the back door_

_Baby, I didn't say my vows_

_So glad you were around when they said_

_Speak Now!" _

He leaned in and captured her lips in an electrifying kiss.

"I love you Rachel Berry."

Together, they walked out of the hotel, hand in hand, and hailed a taxi to take them to Rachel's apartment.


End file.
